Setting the record straight.(From the Editor)(Brief Article)(Editorial)

I didn't grow up with much in the way of a community pool. Suffice it to say that snapping turtles hungry for the taste of young children were rumored to live in the deep end. But even though it was nothing more than a swimming hole, our pool had one thing in common with the fancy ones in the city and on TV: a diving board.

Every summer, I couldn't wait to feel that rough springiness under my feet, take a running leap and just for a moment, break the bonds of gravity. After I mastered the cannonball and the can opener, I learned to do a jackknife and a swan dive. Later, I even worked up the courage to dive off the high dive at the big city pool.

I'm sure that if I could see home movies of myself, I was little more than a gangly teen, limbs splayed gracelessly, splashing into the water. But during those few flying seconds, I felt like Louganis and Baryshnikov all rolled into one. Those are sweet memories, and I know that when it comes ...